


Wonder

by HappyLunatic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Maybe Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyLunatic/pseuds/HappyLunatic
Summary: Sometimes I wonder, if I never came to be, would the world be any different from what it is today.





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> First fic-ish :>

~ Sometimes I wonder, if I never came to be, would the world be any different from what it is today. ~

 

Elyon Lavellan was never one for social events, nor is he one to argue, not when it came to trivial matters anyhow. And so, when his keeper asked him to gather information at the Conclave, Elyon simply gave a nod of affirmation, even though he knew the true intention behind this excuse for his leaving. It was clear as day to Elyon that he, being a warrior wielding a blade as tall as himself, was not best suited to this role of ‘a mere observer’ as his keeper put it. Elyon knew this was spy work, and he knew at least a handful of elves that would make far better spies than him. However, Elyon also knew what his clan thought of him, and so, as he had done countless times before, he swallowed his feelings and marched on.

 

No one, especially not Elyon, expected the outcome. A magical anchor embedded in his left hand that could open and close rifts leading into the fade itself? No, Elyon could not say that he ever dreamed of this, not that this is something one should dream about in forms other than a nightmare. 

 

Others blamed him, this Elyon was used to, but there were many looks that went beyond pure blame, trudging into the territory of utter fear and hatred. Elyon hadn’t felt this afraid in a long time, not since Sia.

 

The mark twisted and burned and suddenly Elyon stood in a field of embrium, a gentle wind caressing his face and carding through his hair. He sighed, couching down to pluck a flower for Sia, she did mention how she needed them for her potions. But as Elyon touched the petals he felt a sticky wetness that clung to his fingertips. He looked down and suddenly the field is gone and he is drowning in blood. Oh creator, so much blood, blood running between his fingers, clinging to his hair, pouring out of his eyes. 

 

Arms emerged from the field of blood, which shifted and bubbled, extending towards Elyon and opening as if readying for an embrace. Long fingers caressed his cheek, guiding Elyon towards the familiar young face that surfaced. Big green eyes stared up at him, all gentle and loving.

 

“Elyon.” Lips curling upward into a heartwarming smile, a smile that instead turned into an ugly sneer as it bared its teeth, sharp and decayed. Evergreen eyes glazed over with hatred as nails dug into his skin, forcefully dragging Elyon into the blood.

 

“You did this.” A mangled voice hissed over and over. “You did this.”

 

Elyon screamed, but no sound came out. He pulled and scratched at the arms holding him prisoner, but it simply pulled more insistently. Blood flooded into his lungs, choking him. Elyon flailed frantically in desperation and was suddenly overwhelmed by pain as his hand slammed into something. He grasped at it, trying to find whatever purchase he could.

 

The object was, for lack of better words, leathery. Its weight just heavy enough to be comfortable. It was a familiar feeling, one that Elyon had felt many times before in the midst of battle. 

 

It was his blade.

 

Elyon took it and swung.

 

~

 

“Drop your weapon. Now!” A voice commanded, drawing Elyon out into reality. A demon lay in front of him, sliced cleanly in half. In his hand was a blade, ironically reflecting his hallucination.

 

“I need this weapon!” Elyon shouted. Perhaps under more normative circumstances he would have considered obeying the command, but given his recent…experience, not having a familiar weight in his hands made Elyon feel vulnerable; too vulnerable. He was terrified, and so he lashed out at the first person, the only person, in front of him. 

 

“A demon attacked me,” Elyon tried to explain, “And more are coming from what I can see. I need to be able to defend myself.”

 

Surprisingly, the lady – Cassandra, Elyon recalls the red-haired lady call her by - did not seem fazed by his outburst.

 

“You’re right,” She said after a moment of contemplation, recalling Elyon’s offer to help in whatever ways he could. “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.” She concluded as she tossed a bag of healing potions to Elyon.

 

More demons attacked as they reached the frozen river bank and even more were falling from the shimmering breach in the sky. The mark started throbbing painfully, but Elyon clenched his teeth and said nothing as they continued on. When he spotted a few elfroot about the path, he stopped to collect some, remembering Sia’s constant urging about the importance of having a stead herb supply.

 

“It never hurts to be prepared.” She had exclaimed when Elyon raised his eyebrow at her picking of yet another commonly found plants. “Sure, nothing bad will probably happen, but what if something goes wrong. These little plants might just save someone’s life then.”

 

Sia had smiled so brightly at him then. Elyon felt his heart clench, but before he lost himself in his memories, Cassandra interrupted him.

 

“What are you doing?” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

Elyon almost chuckled out loud as he echoed what Sia had said to him once. It felt good to smile.

 

They had met Solas and Varric not much later. Whatever Elyon might have thought of his new companions was shadowed by the fact that he could close the rifts using the mark on his hand. Elyon didn’t know what to feel when some of the eyes that once sought blame now glimmered with hope. No one but Sia had ever looked at him like that, and Elyon had failed her completely, remembering the beautiful green eyes clouded by hatred. He shuddered.

 

Looking back, Elyon probably should have inquired more about the mark considering Solas knew quite a deal more than anyone else, and Elyon felt comfortable enough around Solas, because not only was Solas was an elf, he was also a mage.

 

Just like Sia.

 

And Varric was, well, Varric. He was, for lack of better terms, interesting. Elyon had never actually engaged in conversation with dwarves before, but he had certainly heard tales and Varric didn’t quite fit the stereotype. Elyon was rather glad for that.

 

They made quite the team. Elyon would taunt the enemies, providing distraction while Cassandra bashed and slashed and Solas and Varric picked them off from afar. Elyon missed this, knowing that someone has your back when fighting demons is quite the stress reliever, and it felt good to be depended upon in return. Not in the save the demon-infested falling apart world way of course, but as how a vanguard should be depended upon: to protect his comrades. Besides, Elyon truly missed having a barrier cast over him in battle, the soft whizzing of magic promising protection.

 

When Solas asked Elyon about his clan, commenting about how he had “crossed paths” with others, Elyon had hoped nothing violent came to be. But as he expected, certain clans Solas had encountered did launch an attack. Elyon felt sick. Not only did many Dalish bear such immense hatred for humans, some had extended their hatred to their own kind. He still remembered all the harassment Sia suffered through, all the times she’d been called knife-ear by the humans and then flat-ear by her own people. Elyon bottled up his anger, storing it to be unleashed on the next demon they encounter.

 

By the time they made it to the forward camp, both Elyon and Cassandra were drenched in demon blood with demon guts clinging to their hair and clothing. Varric and Solas, on the other hand, would have looked like as if they have simply been running for a while if not for the scarce few blood spots that made their way onto their persons when demons got just a bit too close. 

 

Before them stood Leliana and an elderly man dressed in chantry clothing. They were arguing quite heatedly. Elyon stood back, waiting for their argument to end before making his way over. Apparently, Chancellor Roderick needed no introductions and had clearly already made up his mind regarding Elyon’s guilt.

 

“I’m right here.” Elyon reminded. “Besides, isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?”

 

“You, who shouldn’t even be here, brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick exclaimed.

 

Elyon must admit that Roderick did have a point, up to a certain extent anyhow. He knew he shouldn’t have survived the explosion, but he definitely wasn’t the one responsible for it. Elyon watched as Roderick insisted on retreating, something both Leliana and Cassandra ignored completely. Retreat is not an option, retreat meant giving up, something Elyon was never keen on doing. Sia had always called him stubborn, although Elyon preferred determined if he had any say. 

 

Speaking of having a say, Cassandra and Leliana had turned to Elyon for how to proceed. Elyon didn’t hesitate in coming to a decision.

 

“We charge.”

**Author's Note:**

> I probably won't continue this, which is meant to be a drabble that got elongated. The main reason is I lost my save for Elyon and I wrote this a year ago and I have utterly horrific in-game event recall abilities :<


End file.
